The Off Worlder
by Inthe-EyesofMarch
Summary: After a suicidal mission to hold the Yeerk forces back, Temeran is the only warrior left standing as the Yeerks leave behind destruction. Planning on having a "death of a warrior", someone decides that his path holds something completely different… R&R :
1. Chapter 1: Battlefield

**A/N: **Hey guys! Yay, another story! The beginning is kind of spur-of-the-moment attatched to some ideas that I've been having lately, so who knows where this one is going. :) It's much darker than any of the other fanfics up on my account (or at least the beginning part). Anyways, I hope you guys like it, and as usual, I love reviews. I will try and get back to every single one of them (though I still have to get back to the ones on DC . ) when I can!

-Eyes

**Off Worlder**

_Battlefield_

It was dark; groggy, moans of pain could be heard in every direction, the smell of flesh and soil intermixed, as enemy ships headed off above the clouds, the red of their tail lights glowing. Temeran-Amanthian-Gorash stood on the hill watching them leave, his shredder long since burned out. He pointed it to the sky as if hoping; taking aim, but there was nothing left. He looked back down at it; how useless, how weak and pathetic it looked.

((Sir… Sir,)) fluttered a voice. He looked up, another living voice. Temeran saw him down the gray, burned slope, the young warrior on his side, chest to the ground as he reached up for him. There was no help, no medics. Dracon marked down the youth's flank, fluid oozing down the wounds, gleaming with infection.

((Sir, help me…))

Temeran didn't give him a second glance, traveling passed the fallen warrior. His tail would have had to been amputated at the very least, and he would have wanted to die anyway. The mid-section of the tail was just a bunch embers glowing in the darkening sky. The old warrior's hooves kicked up dried dust, smoking down the hill as he went, as he ignored the pleas for help.

_There's nothing I can do…_

The sun was setting through the thick laden atmosphere, tinting everything blue-and-gray. It was getting cold—and quickly, the bodies preserved over a layer of ice and frost, which quickly formed. It was all happening quickly as the sun fell. He would be that way soon, but he would keep moving for the hell of it. If he had lay down and waited for death, he'd begin thinking. Moving would make him think about the aching of the strings of his freezing muscles; his breathing.

The planet was barren save for the rolling hills like waves, and the streaks of ice that ran throughout the planet like veins of some living, frozen creature. It was an outpost, standing in the middle, between Yeerk and Andalite lines. The Yeerks' gateway to the planet that the overstretched Andalite military had been trying to selfishly guard. The lines drew back and his warriors stayed behind to take down whatever was left. Neither side found anything particularly special about this moon, let alone the planet that it swung around.

The molten blue planet gorged on the right side of the sky, and there were three other moons hidden around the hemisphere. He didn't bother looking back to count, knowing that he would see the congealed blood crystallize, eyes glazing over with ice, and fur prickling of his fallen warriors. Stars spanned the skies. At least the clouds had bothered to clear; he never thought he would see them again. The death ritual had been done just that morning; he knew it was lost. This one piece of him knowing that he would never see his wife and children again.

The landscape began to flatten, save for the webbing of ice that he was coming upon. His hearts began to work in the thinning air, as the moon changed its axis around the planet. It was slow, but his body showed every sign of it changing. His fur was frozen, jagged. IT was beautiful, he thought.

The planet glided through the gas field, glowing green and violet. It shimmered and moved, blinding his green eyes momentarily, unused to the sudden light. The pain in his hearts seared by this point, the oxygen draining faster and faster. But more than likely he would die of radiation and for some reason the idea at that point made him giddy. He _wanted_ those lights.

_This is what dying should be like,_ he thought.

He stumbled as he tried to move closer to it, alone and calling for death in illuminating lights, gas particles by the minute light. His brain began to slow from oxygen starvation; he was euphoric, giddy as he tried to reach. He fell. The ground was cold, and Temeran was numbed; it didn't matter. The old warrior fell, moaning in futility, and called for his wife...

The ground began to shake, a tremor at first; it woke him up. He could hear the fractures beginning in the ground; and—he could breathe! He tried to stand, suddenly alert, but the ground wouldn't let him, shaking too violently at that point, startling the ice skin of the moon. All around him! Frustrated, he whipped his tail—he wanted to live! The fractures surrounded him, refusing to let him up.

It began to crack, weakening the ground. Desperately Temeran began to crawl, digging his tail into the ice with each drag, trying to find stable ground. It was impossible!

The ground exploded!

Tentacles seared the air, as his body was thrown skyward from the explosion. They glowed, ethereal almost, but that was not possible—he could feel the wind around him, as they whipped the air, searching.

((Yaaaaaahhhhh!)) he bellowed.

A number of them wrapped around his middle, his momentum increased as he fell—they were taking him! He whipped his tail violently, trying to cut himself away. It was hard, the tentacles thick with muscle. He worked harder and harder—but it was no use! Each time he cut one away, more wrapped around him, yanking him faster and faster towards the ground. It wrenched him to the ground, the refrozen ice chattered as he was dragged through.

He was falling!

He was falling through the water, the ice frigidness of it shocking him. Temeran was too shocked to scream from it, like tiny needles pressing all around him. His eye stalks closed, but it didn't matter. There was darkness all around him! The creature that pulled him further and further under was boiling hot compared to the liquid that threatened to freeze him. The air! There was no air! Fear pumped it out of his organs, but he was going to die anyway from some unknown predator.

As he was pulled, the water turned blue, light tropical blue. And suddenly it was warm. He could watch it move, the water tingling all around him. It was calmer—where was the light coming from?

The grip of the animal had tightened around him, unwilling to let his prey go. Had he not felt trapped, the water would have proved comforting. His lungs burned, and he decided that he didn't want to die by being eaten.

He decided to breathe in.


	2. Chapter 2: Pandora's Box

_Pandora's Box_

Drowning was not a nice way to go.

Being in something as fluid and gentle as water, and suddenly realizing that it wasn't so. That it would drain in itself into every orifice of your body, and suck the life out of you, as you watched the precious air bubbling, fizzling to the top.

Temeran struggled for his life, but he felt his mind darkening, as pain shot up through his nostrils, bringing up white instead. As he floated off, he could no longer feel the monster grasping at him, but he could feel the breeze of water flowing around him...

Consciousness gathered around his mind, a numbness all around his body and a squeezing at his joints. Was this what dying was like? A constant fading in and out until you were finally gone? He shifted, his back rubbing against something rough, like chiseled granite. Something lit up in his hearts, something like a surprise, a gift.

He snapped open all four eyes, gazing up at only white at first as they struggled to get used to the light. He blinked a few times, realizing that he was in some sort of cave, the walls made of chalk, stalactites hanging from the ceiling above. It was bright, and that was hard to believe at first--wasn't he technically under water? Where was the light coming from. And more so--

Why wasn't he dead?

He took a step forward to explore his surroundings even further. He grunted.

((Of all the--)) he muttered. Something pulled him back, the pressures at his joints holding him. He was a prisoner.

He nearly died twice, both from lack of air, only to be held hostage by unknown beings. It could be the Yeerk forces. He was sure that they didn't even know of this--even the most advanced scans didn't show such caverns as this one. And the Yeerks had more primitive technology.

((Do not fear dear creature.))

He jerked in his bindings, his eyestalks turning towards the figure. He had no known that there was another being in the room--the thing had totally snuck up on him!

An ethereal creature moved into his line of vision, a face more angular than his own. Eyes swirling with ice, and a third down its neck, the neck long and curved. The elbows of the arms were sharp, hands three fingered, and where the thumb should have been was a talon. It was three-legged held up by paws, and a tail that hopped and dug into the ground as he moved for extra balance.

It looked up at him sideways, hands up in peace. ((Do not fear,)) it said again. It slowly put its hand on a particular lump on the uneven wall, and pulled it down--it was a lever! The pressures on him ceased, and he moved forward.

((Then why did you hold me captive?)) Temeran grated. He moved his wrists around, his tail, easing any stiffness that had been left. The creature watched, amazed.

((We were afraid that you would panic,)) he answered, taking a step forward. ((You are such a wonderful creature--you will suffice wonderfully.))

All four eyes were on him. There was a strange edge, and Temeran didn't like it.

((What?))

The ethereal hesitated, the motioned him to come towards him. The worn warrior followed him, tail cocked. And sure enough the white walls hid an unseen corner, the perfect hiding place for an entrance to a possibly primitive race without shielding. There was a staircase that curved downward so that he could see the bottom of them.

The blue of the cavern reflected the ocean, making the ice glimmer as they moved along downwards. Cautiously he followed--what else could he do?

The creature began to talk, and unwillingly he listened as he tried to get over the strange feeling that he had.

((We are ethereal beings and can only survive in this atmosphere under surface. We tired above and could not move with strength and ease and tried space travel--to no avail. We are a frail race.)) The creature seemed to say the last part with irritation. An explorer-type Temeran supposed.

The corner rounded, and Temeran's eyes widened.

((But you see we are not a primitive race.))

A city unfolded out before them, glowing and throbbing with life. There were more of these creatures all around the place. Domes and sky scrapers made out of just light and class it seemed, right into a ground that couldn't be seen at the height that they stood. They did not appear to be a weak species.

((What are you?)) he asked. ((Who are you?))

The creature seemed to smile. ((We are the Golflin. And my name is Oedma. Your observer, mentor and guide.))

Temeran scoffed. ((Mentor?)) He couldn't help but laugh. ((What is there left for me to learn? I am probably three times your age!))

Oedma moved on. ((We shall see, Andalite))

Maybe the lost battle had sent tremors to the ground, or they were much more advanced than this creature was letting on, but somehow he knew the species that Temeran was. He wasn't liking this whole field trip bit-by-bit. But, he reasoned with himself, the ultimate goal was to get home. Maybe to appease the little monster meant a way out of the place.

However, his wife would have been impressed with the civilization, and maybe he could get a hold of a few visual cards about them as a nice gift for her--and possibly his retirement. Maybe forget about the war…

Wishful thinking.

He was valuable to the military and would most likely be tossed back in with a new command, and he would soon carry new scars from the war. Ones that he would never show his wife. But wishful thinking was what helped him through the hard times. It didn't hurt to think about retirement.

((Where are we going?)) he asked, trying to ignore the Andalite comment. It bothered him--and words rarely bothered him.

((To get you educated,)) replied the Golflin. They were beginning to go into the city. The stairs stopped abruptly, a bridge of light connecting to the ledge after a moment. Temeran was beginning to tire of the show that this creature seemed to be putting on, and wanted to know what it seemed to be eluding to.

Cautiously, after a few moments hesitation, he stepped on what easily felt like solid ground. The bridge moved them down at a slant, as they walked across. The warrior couldn't help but feel in awe of the city, cities on his home world long ago extinct because of their impracticality. As they got closer to the structures, he realized that he could see right through them, and see the Golflin moving about with their daily life. They seemed to be a pretty harmless race, but a part of him kept his tail on guard.

((We are almost there Andalite friend,)) said Oedma. His voice concealed any form on emotion.

The bridge finally connected with one of the structures and into one of the rooms. Temeran could not see into this one. His tour guide slowed to a stop, and looked right at him.

((Do you trust me?)) he asked.

Temeran felt a shiver go down his spine. Nonetheless Oedma seemed to read the reaction and moved forward to a door that slid open to allow them through into the building.

((Very well, you will learn,)) he replied calmly. Temeran had no choice but to follow.


End file.
